The Fool & The Genius

The genius had a plan
The fool had a feeling

The genius said a spell
The fool said a prayer

The genius knew of his power
The fool thought of her weakness

The genius wrote the rules
The fool refused to read them

The genius kept the secrets
The fool exposed herself

The genius protected his home
The fool protected the genius

The genius took her heart
The fool lost her mind

The genius had a plan
The fool had a feeling

Celebrations

I celebrate the times when
I forgot to think about him.
I relish in the absence of his ghost.
For once,
The thoughtlessness is a tragic liberation,
A victory over several hours of
Inadvertent deliverance.

When I remember how
I love him
I celebrate the time when I don't.
He is but a memory.
Similar to the tattoos on my skin
Hidden away from
A judging gaze,
But burned and scarred into my soul.
He has branded my mind
With this abusive affection.

Though this temporary distraction
Is appealing and vital,
I find myself missing him
And upset that I have allowed
Myself to slip away from the devotion
He has demanded.

Absorb him, he says.
All of him.
Except the part he has reserved
For another.
Clear instructions that I have
Deliberately avoided
For the sake of my soul.

But passion reigns supreme
And I torment myself
By pulling hairs for my skin
And gluing them back when
The hour glass has emptied
Its last grain of sand.

God granted me the serenity
To relinquish my power
And stopped plucking myself
From myself to give him
Disheveled pieces of my bleeding blackness

So when the time passes
I declare a victory in spite of
His pulling and tugging
On the veins and tissues
In the night.

I am forlorn and free.

Sovereignty

It is MINE.

This body screams out loud.

I can share her fruits

Or hide them through Winter.

Until Spring when she

Decides she's ready to blossom again.

I can spray her fragrance

Captivate the masses

Laying down, standing up

Running side ways

Strewn wayward in the air

It is mine.

Fully clothed and eyes wide open

Do you dare stake claim?

You're mistaken by the price tags.

They adorn her soul

Like crystals formed from ice

Frozen pieces have broken apart

They appear dead

Although lifeless, her energy seeps

Into the core of her womanhood

With roots fastened

To her creator.

It is mine.

Bread & Butter

You taught me how to butter bread

With rough and calloused hands

And bunions on your feet

You marched and waited

For a bus, for a train, for a taxi.

You returned as a sour shell

Of yourself, weary but unshaken

The pot put on the fire,

Sharp knives and wet rice,

Your anger was cold and gray

It drained over the sink.

I wiped the table clean and set the table

For your madness.

You taught me we are born alone

And likewise, we will die

So I shoveled snow and cut the grass

And the snakes revealed themselves

Red eyes and black souls

Your madness kept me safe

I inherited the walls you had built

Fortified with blood and tears

Of my own; they wouldn’t crumble.

 

Erect they stand, although the earth

 

Has shaken time and time again

 

They have birthed an eternal spirit

 

Unwavering and immortal.

 

Her face and nose round like mine,

 

Today, I will teach her how to butter bread.